Rusty Revolvers

If you don't fuck with me, then don't fuck with me man yeah
Muerte nigga, dead that
Come on, yo, yeah, shit

I'm a margin shotter, 2Pac product
Razor Riddick Rusty revolvers partner
Don of the State, honor the greats
I'll do your career, broke records in a crate
Check me on the interstate in the Great Lakes
Catch you with a knife or a line or a tape
Superhero no cape
Escape with more cake
Gloves on both hands that fit like OJ
Still you must acquit yards full of dusty pits
Chicken fights, bitches, saggy tits - worn out
Torn out the frame like your ex's picture
Freshest mixture
When I speak I collect the riches
The kid's so gifted, it's 3 hundred 65 Christmas
Jones-towns liquids when listening
Slave to a plea deal shout out to prison
When it rained I thought it was God throwing up liquor
Heart turned cold heard the block whisper
This year you going to be that nigga, nigga
Thanks already know that
Blowback weed like a smokestack
Bird flu of rap still wolf pack
Straight out the bush Walt White dough stack
Chop Shop no cars
A pro at SARS bars
Czar cigars silky Cloud superstars
Nigguh!